


Unacceptable Behavior

by Zhurenaissance



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Fighting, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 15:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhurenaissance/pseuds/Zhurenaissance
Summary: Corsair is getting Married!Alex and Scott "Talk" about it,with their fists.





	Unacceptable Behavior

Everybody’s Lips, the hottest mutant friendly bar in Oakland. It cut the bleeding edge of mutant culture. Styles were born here, musicians, film viewings, poetry, from human and mutant alike. The community focused on activism aimed directly at helping the immediate local area, human and mutant alike. It accepted everyone, but here was a place where the native language came with an X-Gene. It would have been impossible to maintain under normal circumstances.

But as luck would have it, Everybody’s Lips was owned by Roxy. Daughter of Angel Depres aka “Sexy Mutha” and one Roy Washington aka “Daddy Libido”, Roxanne Washington aka “Bling!” had founded this club three years ago when she returned from Tiger Island, home of the Immortal Weapon. Since that time she had leveraged her family’s music connections and her skill with business gained from being on the board of Worthington Industries to carve out a piece of heaven for herself.

Owned by an X-Corps Reservist, it was frequently visited by active duty members and veterans alike. More than once Sentinels had attacked. More than once it had stood with no casualties after such a fight. The interior had been designed by Roxy, herself. Based on the later generations of the Danger Room it could be a different palace every night. Tonight it was a seedy dive bar with a small dancehall in the back. All wooden interior where the varnish was just a little sticky with age, stale beer smell, and a bartender shaped roughly like a refrigerator with a Harley tank top, handlebar mustache. It was pure nostalgia-bait. No one goes to bars like this anymore.

Tonight, at the bar were Alex and Scott Summers. They had already been drinking, catching up on the last year of adventures. It had been the normal assortment of megalomaniacs, alien invasions, dimensional incursions, and Sentinels, of course. It was always something, new, old, didn’t matter. The purple machines of death always found a way to return and carry out their genocidal program. But it was not impending doom that brought these brothers together on this night. Far from it. A much happier occasion had drawn them together on this muggy September night.

“I spent way more time with Cain Marko, than any man should ever have to that year.” Scott sighed and took a drink. 

Alex pulled a swig from his beer bottle and made a happy sound of refreshment. “So, Dad is finally tying the knot with Hepzibah.” He shook his blonde hair in disbelief. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Scott scratched his chin and furrowed his brow while thinking about the memories he had with the Starjammer and its crew, then about the memories from his time displaced self who did the same, then his own from the adventure that had followed that. He intentionally unfurrowed his brow and cracked a half-smile. “It tracks. She’d move a star for him, he’d do the same for her.” He drank deep from his stein.

“Well that’s kind of the problem isn’t it?” Alex quirked an eyebrow in his brother’s direction.

Scott tapped his visor into place, not that it was ajar, and asked back. “What do you mean by that?”

Alex shrugged and took another drink. “The way I see it, Dad died, with me, on Chandilar.” Then another. “Then teenage you came back and got to have a grand old time with freshly resurrected Pa.” He sneered and killed his beer. “Up until that point he at least had the decency to respect Mom’s memory.” He grabbed another from the counter and flicked the cap off with a tiny expanding circle of cosmic energy from his thumb.

Scott faced his brother and kept his face neutral. “Well, speaking from experience, death changes you. He probably just wants to make the most out of the life he has.”

“I haven’t has the displeasure of dying, I don’t think I’d come back. At least, I wouldn’t come back as fast as you, birdboinker.” Alex leered at his brother.

“What the f@#$ did you just say?”

“You heard me. You shack up with some cosmic bird and now every time you die you get better. Of course you’d be on Dad’s side when he wants to get married to some alien skunk slut.”

In that moment a chill overcame Scott, it started in his shoulders, sternum, and nose. While he could think of hundreds of reasons why his younger brother would suddenly be sounding like a bigot he immediately discarded all of them but the two most likely scenarios. First, Alex had been exposed some years back to a magical incident that had left him, for lack of better terminology, ‘evil’. While he had seemed to recover, Scott was aware of more than one moment of seeming backsliding. If Alex had turned ‘evil’ once again, as imprecise as that was, he should immediately move to disable his brother and get him treatment. The second scenario was that his younger brother was jealous of the additional time he had gotten with their father and was pitching an emotional tantrum over it, by way of insulting their very nice soon to be Step-Mother. Either way, Scott felt that he must immediately act to discipline his younger brother.

As he came out of this period of intense reflection he checked in with Alex’s body language to see if his little brother knew that they were in a fight and was surprised to see that Alex did not register the threat and was, in fact, still talking. Scott had stopped listening. From his relaxed stance and completely open posture it seemed Alex felt completely safe. There was an opportunity to do this quietly so Scott immediately moved to execute.

First he stepped into Alex’s personal space. The motion had to look fluid, like a father trying to catch his child. The sudden surge caught Alex completely by surprise. His mouth opened a little bit to make a questioning noise, startled. In that split second Scott’s fist flew out, hard and sharp.

What does it mean for Scott Summers to throw a punch?

Scott was an X-Man, and one of the oldest. That means thousands of hours over years in the gym, in the Danger Room, in live combat.  This punch was not the esoteric theory of martial arts competition, nor was it the unsophisticated punch of the street thug. This was the punch of the battle hardened veteran of wars. Blood on these knuckles. It was a heavy and responsible fist. The intent was to knock out his brother, not seriously damage him. With a fist like that you would need to be absolutely sure of the path.

Spatial Awareness is one of Scott’s powers. His sense of angles, distance, movement allow him to shoot missiles streaking towards him out of the air. His incredible calculating ability allows him to ricochet his eyebeams seemingly effortlessly. For all of his vaunted abilities, accuracy forms the foundation of his fighting style. His opponent’s reach, force, movement, all effortlessly calculated in real time. So a mere punch, a punch with no martial school or magical mysteries, was just a math problem. Nothing more.

The tip of Scott’s knuckle grazed the pad of Alex’s unguarded, unclenched chin. Just enough force to cause his head to turn quickly. Alex’s brain, suspended in fluid inside the skull, accelerated slower than Alex’s skull. As it sought to catch up the skull has already stopped moving and his brain crashed splendidly into the bone. The force of the crash caused that mass of brain tissue to bounce! This happened more than once. Alex’s neurotransmitters lit up like a tree and he fell unconscious.

In order to make the movement of the punch less conspicuous Scott had already unclenched his fist, and began to catch his blacked-out brother. Scott hoped that anyone seeing it from the outside would just think he drank too much. It took him a few hefts of Alex’s frame to get a stable shoulder carry. The remainder of the plan was to return to the nearest headquarters and get this straightened out. If he needed to yell some sense into his little brother after the immediate physical correction and that his brother was not, in fact, possessed by ‘evil’ in some fashion better in a medical room than public. If he was magically under the influence or otherwise, there was protocol to follow and none of it involved being in a holo-bar. 

He took a few casual steps to leave, affecting an unhurried gait so as not to draw attention. Which was exactly when James Proudstar walked up. Seven feet tall, two inches. Three hundred and forty-five pounds of invulnerable, super-strong, super-fast, flying, Apache with a healing factor stopped right before them and said “Hey, I just heard about your dad’s wedding. Congratulations.”

Scott was completely blindsided. He needed to get his brother outside before he woke up, at least. There was no recovering the element of stealth with James in their way. They had been made. Receiving well-wishes from a subordinate was important, as a leader, but he needed a way of diffusing whatever this conversation was going to be and he had to come up with it fast. Luckily he had long trained himself in social tactics. Then, with a sudden flash of insight he looked up to James and spoke, just a bit too loudly so that everyone in the vicinity could hear. “Hello, James! I hope you won’t try and make it weird that you slept with my Step-Mom!” He then grinned, like one would after a cheesy dad joke.

James was completely blindsided. He needed to be in any conversation other than this one. Through his life he had found that shutting up and staying still worked and so he promptly froze. Scott waited for a response, still keeping up the grin. The awkward tension continued to raise and time was running out so Scott continued. “I’ll be going now.” he said while nodding his head forward and raising his eyebrows expectantly. James immediately got out of the way and started to half mumble something before just continuing to not talk. Even though Scott carried Alex out of Everybody’s Lips James continued to stand there, dazed.

Scott managed to get himself out into the parking lot. Alex’s form draped over his shoulders he began to think of his brother. The time they had spent as children, separated and reunited so many times over the years. He thought about their time as peers, as field leaders, as defenders of the earth. He thought about the titanic battle during Inferno. He had a problem back then and he began to wonder if it would pop up again. He turned his head as he walked his brother to a more empty part of the lot. “You gonna stop pretending to be unconscious and attack me? Or are you just going to let me take you back to base?”

Cosmic power flashed between them and it seemed like Alex’s body was snached away by some force. He came to a skidding halt a meter and a half from Scott. Scott hadn’t even felt it, the accelerating force being completely nullified by the siphon of Cosmic Power that are his powers. Yet clearly Alex had learned something new. How to affect himself with his own cosmic powers. It was a deceptively subtle power increase, it’s utility or usefulness would only show from countless hours of practice. Scott was certain his brother had not mastered this new technique from the clumsy way in which he recovered from the movement. Scott grew more confident of his ability to win. It happened again. Just like it did during Inferno. Scott couldn’t see Alex as an adult anymore. The punk who was in his vision looked just like a 6 year old he used to know.

“You really cold clocked me to drag me back to base? Me? Your own brother. Where do you get off?”

“I made a tactical decision and implemented it.”

“A tactical decision? Are you some kind of robot? Are you right in the head? No. You’re just acting broken again like you always do. I was just talking.”

“Your comments were bigoted, Alex. You were acting like a complete asshole. You are too powerful and too important in the mutant community to act like this because like it or not, you’re my brother.” Scott pointed, watched as Alex made a face to that. “That means you have a responsibility to do and be better. You really let me down this time.”

Alex flew into a rage, veins bulging on his neck. “I? Let You Down?! By pointing out that DAD, the man who was in Space for most of our lives, abandoned us to fuck a skunk! He just left us, Scott! For Her! She’s more important to him than us, than Mom.”

Scott stared Alex down. That confirmed to him that this was just a tantrum. “The way I see it, that’s not for me to judge, nor you. If you have a problem with Christopher, the man, say it to his face and have it out like men. But talking like that about Hepzibah is impolite,” He adjusted his visor. “I won’t abide that from family.”

“You pompus dick!” Alex yelled as power crackled from his eyes and bubbled around his fists. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to correct you. You may not have noticed, but there is no way you can win.” Scott reported. “You will lose. You will get up. I will put you down again. Stop now, before you get yourself hurt.”

A blast of concentric circles of force erupted towards the ground from Alex’s fist. Where the cosmic power landed the asphalt belched up at Scott in a rude spray. “I beat The Incredible Hulk!” Screamed Alex. Thick chunks of rock hurtled quickly towards Scott. He hopped backwards and concentrated on the projectiles. Identification, recognition, calculation, execution. Quick blasts of crimson force shock amongst the debris, reflecting off multiple incoming threats and sending them hurtling back at the oncoming Alex.

Alex was streaking towards his brother, accelerating to an incredible speed in an instant. An optic blast ripped through the debris covering and demolished the ground under Alex’s feet. When he stepped over the divot instead of falling into it two concentric circles of force rippled through each other with a concussive noise. Each step pushing him forward like an arrow shot from a taught bow. But sadly his opponent was Scott.

Alex had the advantage of speed, but he wasn’t a speedster. Alex had the advantage of power, but he wasn’t a bruiser. Alex was a Blaster and sadly Scott was immune to his blasts. He had worked on this technique for months as a movement technique. Blasts from his feet and hands to close distance from, which, he would brawl his brother. Power surged in his every cell as he began to charge energy through his arms and legs to fire off supportive blasts, little volcanoes of force peppering circles over him. It was a move borne from Alex’s desire to win, not just against his brother who had always overshadowed him, from any who would challenge him. Scott just saw through it.

From Scott’s perspective it was no better than following a handful of pocket sand before an amateur’s tackle. Alex lacked a plan other than just overcoming his with brawn, or if he had one it wasn’t obvious. Scott just reached out and pulled down. For years Scott had been practicing against flying opponents, people who could maneuver quickly and deftly, which Alex was not. Scott was used to attacks being full of complexity and intent, not this. He could not help but see the flailing child in his brother and wonder how best to get through to him. The titanic forces at play as Alex launched himself through space were an afterthought. Rolling Alex over himself he directed his brother into the ground directly.

The pavement buckled with a horrific crash as Alex’s plasma potential energy erupted into the ground, halting his continued fall. Alex cratered himself. It wasn’t pretty. He had cratered himself before. It was painful, bewildering. Asphalt gushed from around him as the wild forces of his plasma discharge sent him spinning away from his landing point. His body came to a rest against one of the parked cars in the lot, slamming into it with a tragic crunch and a shower of broken glass.

Scott leapt away from the splash of debris, a wide beam of force blocking the shrapnel. He recovered his distance as the sirens of car alarms began to blare into the Bay Area evening. The air was crisp, and it smelled like the bay. The air heavy in his lungs Scott breathed through his nose. Bathed in the orange glow of outdoor lighting he recovered. He clenched his fist and turned towards his brother who was already starting to stand.

“Last chance! Stay down!”

Alex stood in the gloom, hunched over like a puppet cut of its strings. Darkness shrouded his face. He slowly straightened himself out through the pain, and when he turned his face to his brother no eyes nor face could be seen. Just circles of bubbling, boiling plasma where eyes should be. Alex clenched his fist with a dull bass sound. A ripple, thin, pure and bright as the sun spreads out near instantly engulfing the parking lot. Explosions ripped through every light pole, every car. The ripple then sucked back to Alex’s fist and tore all of the ambient power with it. Alex grasped this piece of sun in his hand and tilted his head at his brother. “I. Am. Power!” He tossed it directly towards Scott.

Scott saw no threat, until that hoop began to move on its own, slipping through space unexpectedly, and coming to rest right beneath him. The explosion was mostly calculated for from that point. If Scott stood still the upwell of super-heated rock would pulverize him. Either way, the sublimation of some rock to gas as Alex’s plasma stripped it suddenly of electrons created far more devastating consequences. His only chance was to absorb as much of the ambient energy as possible, move quickly, and not take the full brunt.

The explosion tossed Scott like a ragdoll. He managed to maintain consciousness, which was fortunate. One hand reached out to the ground as he perfectly transferred his vector to standing upright facing his brother with an acrobatic twist. Clenching his brow, his heels dug in and leaned forward. Fists braced at his side his lips curled into a sneer. “ _ In the Name of the Immortal Magik, Crimson Bands of Cyttorak. _ ” Bands of pure force appeared and suppressed Alex, implacable bonds cinched down. “Remember, I spent some time as Erik the Red? working for Cyttorak? We were just talking about this.” Scott reprimanded, Alex screamed and struggled, power burgeoning from beneath the binding.  “You know,” he mused as he walked towards his brother, “I was actually guessing you’d be immune to it.” Scott reached his hands before him and placed his palm on Alex’s forehead.

“I’m going to absorb your entire tank.” The red glow of the visor brightened. A thunderous tornado of noise burst forth from their connection as psychic field groaned against psychic field. Distortions tore the air asunder in crackling black dots as brother strained against brother.  Alex screamed but Scott did not waver. Something broke with a dreadful crash as Scott began to pull the cosmic energy from his brother directly. His own psionic field swelled uncontrollably as he pulled every last erg from Alex.

Alex hazily wavered in the Crimson Bands “Wh...Whu?!” his eyes becoming visible once more, confusion and fear in them.

Scott illuminated the night, every bit of him radiating. “I warned you that you were going to get hurt.” He extended his arm forward and snapped. With a horrible crunch something broke in the air all around them. A line of crimson light split the sky, tore its way into existence. Scott brushed his hair back from his visor, his other arm clutching injured ribs. “It’s over.”

That line of light in the sky opened like an eye. Glaring judgment down upon Alex. Tiny drops of red began to rain down from the sky. Slow at first, then with growing intensity extremely thin beams of force carved into the ground. Alex bellowed as he struggled in the grip of sorcery. A downpour of razor thin beams of pure crimson force tore the battle field to pieces till Scott gestured upwards. The ground erupted all at once, kinetic charge from hundreds of glowing eye-shaped portals flinging carved pieces of rock from underground. Alex gaped in horror as the stones flew towards him, containing him in a cage of stone fit together just at the point of impact. The Crimson Bands dispelled by the impact.

The finger gun isn’t normally a gesture to fear. But as Scott lowered his finger to point at Alex, the younger Summers brother knew. A single point of light bore down from the iris in the sky. It brightened Oakland like a sun. Alex tried to hold on, to absorb all of the energy, his own energy, his brother’s energy, and the concussive force of the Crimson Cosmos. An unnatural noise vibrated through the city, the wind shifted. The will of Alex Summers was not enough. At the mercy of forces utterly beyond his control, he passed out. Overwhelmed.

A crowd of dumbfounded people gathered at the entrance to Everybody’s Lips. The entire parking lot flattened or far worse. The beam from the sky trickled into nothingness and Scott’s psychic field retreated back into himself. The bar patrons stared at the silhouette of Scott, finger gun towards the kneeling, unconscious body of his brother. Agape, veterans and greenhorns alike. Someone coughed and Scott’s head turned. Power still burning behind that visor, crackling and roiling. There was an audible gasp from the gawkers.

Scott saw the looks on their faces. Someone fainted. He breathed intentionally through his nose before sighing. He turned back to the unconscious frame of his brother.


End file.
